Sometimes a poem is born by the external pains.
Sometimes by the fountain of sorrow flowing inside me…
Whenever I felt defeated, poem came to console me.
In the endless desert, it doesn’t let me feel thirsty.

On every throbbing wounds it help me to heal.
In this ruthless world, no one can survive alone,
Everyone should carry something for self defence,
So I keep poem.

No matter where I am, even if I am not reading it,
Its still lying near me, like a lover,
It cuddles me, it give me shoulders to cry,
It wipes my tears.

When someone attacks vigorously, seeing me alone…
I say a poem… I throw it like a weapon.